Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
She’s home early, just after eleven, which means I can go to bed with an easy heart, knowing my nanny is back, safe and sound.
But I don’t go to bed.
I stand in the dark and listen to her open and close the garage door. I imagine her scaling the stairs to her apartment and changing into her pajamas. I imagine her stripping off her bra, sighing with relief to have her breasts free after a long night of wearing that push-up one she wears to get better tips. I imagine what it would feel like to cup her breasts in my hands, to cradle the weight of her as I guide her nipples to my…
My unwise fantasies are interrupted by another pair of headlights bright enough to startle me into the shadows behind the curtains.
I feel silly for being so jumpy, but I wasn’t expecting anyone else, and the car didn’t make a sound pulling up. I peek through the curtains again, spotting a pricey electric model at the curb.
Well, that explains the lack of noise.
It doesn’t explain what it’s doing here.
The new car’s door opens, triggering the dome light, illuminating the curly head of…a man. A young man with high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw that’s giving Luxury Watch Model. He reaches into the back seat, swinging a plush leather duffel bag over one shoulder before stepping out and shutting the door behind him. Quietly. Carefully. He’s clearly aware of the late hour and is doing his best not to wake anyone who’s already sleeping.
What a thoughtful guy.
What a fucking thoughtful gentleman of a guy.
I hate him—and his fucking designer duffle bag—immediately.
Before I make a conscious decision to move, my unopened beer is on the kitchen table, and I’m out the back door, shoving my feet into an old pair of tennis shoes I left on the porch after playing soccer with Bella before dinner. I tell myself I’m just going to make sure Cheekbones isn’t a supermodel burglar.
Or a food delivery guy at the wrong house.
Or a food delivery guy at the right house, who might decide to stick around and bother Clover once he realizes she’s alone up there.
I tell myself that if it becomes obvious that Clover is expecting this obnoxiously put-together man in his perfectly fitted sweater and baggy designer suit pants, I will retreat to the house, where I will go directly to bed without another impure or jealous thought about my nanny.
After all, she’s not going to be your nanny much longer. She’s not going to be your anything.
The thought sends a guilty cramp through my stomach. A part of me insists I should have talked to Clover before I put in for emergency leave. But the other part of me is well aware that if I’d talked to her first, she would have probably talked me out of it. She would have convinced me that we can, and should, soldier through the tension for the good of the kids.
Ava and Bella are thriving under Clover’s care. Losing her is going to hurt them, I know it is. But I also know that I’m not a superhero. Not even close. And it would require superhero levels of self-control for me to keep going like this.
Because I don’t just want to get naked with Clover more than I’ve ever wanted to get naked with anyone. Ever. I also look forward to our talks over snack time with the girls so much that I push the speed limit all the way home. I light up inside every time she smiles. I watch the video we made of the four of us playing “Rock Band” in the Ava’s room last week over and over again. I ache to pull her into my arms every time she leaves at the end of her shift, and watching her cross the lawn hurts a little more with every passing day.
I’m in love with my nanny, and she has no idea.
And she certainly doesn’t feel the same way. I’m just her boss. Her boss, with a side of inconveniently intense chemistry, but that’s it. Clover clearly likes kissing me, but that’s where it ends for her. Meanwhile, I can’t remember the last time I had a crush this intense.
I hope it’s just a crush.
I hope it retreats as quickly as it sank its teeth into me. If not, I’m in trouble. So are the girls. Yes, they need a loving caregiver when I’m away, but they need a stable, emotionally healthy father more. I can’t be the parent they need if I’m lovesick and pining for a woman I can never have.
So, Clover has to go.
And I have to devote myself to making that as easy for the girls as possible, while finding a replacement for the unicorn of a person we’ve all fallen for way too hard, way too fast.